


With Immense Difficulty

by returntosaturn



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: I don't know, Implied Newt/Leta, Newt's travels, but its cute?, here take it, it spiraled, meeting the Demiguise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9237533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returntosaturn/pseuds/returntosaturn
Summary: He reached about for his canteen, filling it and remaining just a bit longer at the cascade., if only as a sign of reverence for what the land had offered.A slight clinking of rocks sounded not far off, turning his attention toward where the trees crested together again at the edge of the fall. Two rocks, floating like watching eyes bobbed just a few feet from the forest floor. But there were eyes!—at least in a sense. Before him, like a sort of apparition, the snowy form of a Demiguise made itself visible, holding the rocks up to its wide eyes, as if seeing through them.When it lowered them, its gaze was trained on Newt, the unwelcomed visitor in its milieu.





	

Though he had seen quite a few exotic things by now, six months into his travels, he was still awed by exactly how beautiful the world was. It alone was something to be protected, to be cherished, apart from the beasts themselves. Now, even as he trudged through the marshy floor of a rainforest, coats buttoned, and wet to the knees of his trousers, a bubbling little waterfall caught his eye, picturesque in the way it was nestled into the trees, quiet and unobserved. 

After two years in the War, the hazy hollow bowel of No Man’s Land had become his habitat. While he knew it was not the worst fate by war that the War visited to its soldiers—yes, fates worse than death—the dark expanse of waste was all he had known. Being reminded that there were parts of the world still seemingly untouched by man had been a benefit of taking this coveted chance at travel and study.

He had ventured here alone, without a contact or a guide, not unusual but more difficult in that he must seek out packs and clutches himself, without the help of an insider’s knowledge of the area. 

It was not a dreary journey, however. It gave him time to truly explore and enjoy the landscape, and gain a better understanding of what signs indicated a particular species’ hiding place. Natives rushed him and, he found unsurprisingly, were much too familiar with their lands, or in some cases rather glad to be rid of a pestering beast, to be willing to slow the pace.

He ducked down, bending a knee to the damp rocks around the little spring, cupping his hands for a drink.

The forest was still and tranquil for the entire day’s trek. And yet it seemed alive, breathing and thriving around him. As an essence, a feeling, more than a place. There has been no sign of any magical creatures, only the non-magical, bright colored birds and frogs that changed colors with whatever tree they hopped to, intriguing in their own right. He’d paused to watch them, only lingering half an hour or so before moving on. The sunlight was slanting low now, nearly dusk, casting eerie shadows. He would need to find a suitable place to set up camp for the night and continue his journey in the morning.

Even if this detour led to not even a single nest, he could be thankful for having seen it. A reprieve from the bustle of New Delhi and Kathmandu, a quiet little pocket of lush life in the valleys of Thailand. 

He reached about for his canteen, filling it and remaining just a bit longer at the cascade., if only as a sign of reverence for what the land had offered.

A slight clinking of rocks sounded not far off, turning his attention toward where the trees crested together again at the edge of the fall. Two rocks, floating like watching eyes bobbed just a few feet from the forest floor. But there _were_ eyes!—at least in a sense. Before him, like a sort of apparition, the snowy form of a Demiguise made itself visible, holding the rocks up to its wide eyes, as if seeing through them. 

When it lowered them, its gaze was trained on Newt, the unwelcomed visitor in its milieu.

Newt smiled despite himself, staying couched low where he was. 

“Hello there.”

The creature cooed, a high thrumming in its throat. It was slim, with flat oval of a head. All indications that it was male.

“You’re marvelous,” he breathed, reaching to fish in his pocket for his sketchbook.

_Thunk._

The creature’s eyes flashed blue, and brown again in the expanse of a second. It let out a screech, high and shrill in the covering of lush green. It aimed precisely, tossing one of its rocks right at Newt’s temple.

“Ooh!”

He recovered, standing fully upright. But the creature was gone, either invisible or fleeing. Either way, he was alone again in the quiet clearing of the spring.

He huffed, irritated with only himself for running the creature off. He rubbed at the lump, setting down his case on the rocks.

It was as good a place as any. Suspecting that he’d done enough in disturbing this little habitat for one day, he ducked inside to tend to the others before they grew too dejected, but not without one last glance towards where the Demiguise had lurched.

-

He popped from the case the next morning with a new plan. He’d remain here for as long as it took to catch another glimpse of the Guise. Just a sketch. Just a hint at its mannerisms when unthreatened, a few notes about its diet and he’d be satisfied. These creatures, he knew enough from lore, were peaceful and wise little fellows, and reminded him funnily enough of Professor Dumbledore himself, gentle but vague in the wisdom they shared. So why had he gone defensive at Newt’s presence?

He decided to linger by the stream, in hopes that the Guise would return for a drink or to gather berries from the low shrubs. 

And so he waited, scribbling the sharp curve of the toucans’ beaks into his sketchbook as they cawed in the canopy.

He tried writing, flipping to a clean sheet of paper, and scribbling _“Dearest Leta…”_

But then he grimaced, scribbling it out with short nub of pencil. He could not lend enough mental nor emotional capacity to that now.

Something splashed.

He looked.

Two! The Demiguise he recognized from the evening past, was bent over the stream lapping at the sweet water so that when he pulled away, the fur about his cheeks and chin hung in a limp beard.

The other with him was smaller, more greyish. Younger, he assumed.

The elder creature held his paws to cup water, bringing it to the other to drink.

Newt watched in silent, rapt attention, pencil poised but unmoving. The young one had a limp, and was much thinner than it’s companion. But then Newt saw it. His right foot was mangled, a purplish, wine colored blood sullying his fur.

He had been injured in a trap, Newt was sure. There could be no other explanation for the teeth-like scrapes marring a creature that had no known predators.

So it explained it. They’d been hunted. Hurt. Perhaps the only two left in the area.

But he did not move from his place in the cleft of rock at the farthest edge of the little stream. Did not dare to make a sound as the pair sauntered, the younger leaning against the elder, back into the thick of the trees.

-

He wasn’t able to track them down until dusk again. They left no tracks, no imprints in the soft marsh that clung to his tall boots.

The only way he’d found their tree was by the tell of scratches dug into the bark by their claws. 

He’d hoisted himself up easily enough, only hindered by the burn of the damp, rough bark on his palms. He’d pocketed a tin of salve beforehand, along with a strip of bandage for the little one’s wound.

For a moment he thought perhaps he’d mistaken their markings, or perhaps he’d frightened them into invisibility when he found nothing and could see no glimmer of white in the branches above. 

“I’m a friend,” he spoke, just in case there was an answering sound that would indicate where they were hiding. “I’ve come to help you.”

A thin growl simmered from the end of a particularly thick branch, just above his head. The elder Demiguise faded to view, hunched and glaring down on him in forewarning.

“Its alright,” he soothed. He lifted a hand, slipping a bit, shreds of bark slipping beneath his boot. He hefted himself up and to the right of the creature, to set his feet on another branch just below theirs, gaining more secure footing. The Guise snarled, deep in its throat, inching back.

“You’re alright.” He held out his hand again, a yielding gesture. “I’m just…”

The beast’s eyes flashed glowing blue as they had the day prior. Then, all at once a cawing sort of laugh burst from his bearded mouth as Newt’s foot slipped against the flimsy branch, wet sole against wet bark. He grasped for something of purchase, but fell headfirst, caught in a weave of thick ivy by the ankle, upside down and sprawling.

Above him, the Demiguise’s laughter chorused with a flock of birds disturbed by the ruckus. 

“Yes, very funny,” he groaned, dangling there helplessly. He tried to wriggle himself free, head pulsing with the rush of blood. “Quite a show…AAH!”

He dislodged his ankle from the tangle, but plummeted the rest of the way to the earth, only cushioned by the soft bed of wet grass on the forest’s floor.

He huffed, standing and righting his clothes with a jerk. “Right then. It seems we started off on the wrong foot. Quite literally.”

The Guise was pointing down at him like a child would point out a clown, still chortling to itself.

“Let’s try again,” Newt said, readying himself for a second climb. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m bringing your friend a bit of medicine. That’s all I want.”

His resilience must’ve silenced any further growling form the beast, for he made it up to the branch beneath their nest without any protest. Now he reached out again, grasping the branch above with both hands, bracing his arms and lifting, leaping wide to dig his heel into the base, hauling himself upwards to straddle the branch.

The Demiguise waddled backwards, uncertain, but otherwise foreseeing no future trickiness or bone-threatening falls. Their nest was a mat of twisted vine and twigs, with the younger creature nestled in the deepest hollow. He could not lean towards it for fear of crushing it where it was nestled precariously in the fork of this branch and the next. 

The white Guise crooned in hesitation. Newt was now perched between him and the nest. Not the most desirable place to be with an animal he’d only just gotten a smidge of trust from.

“Is that your brother? Yes? I’ve got a brother too. But you’re the older one, aren’t you?”

The creature trilled warmly, a sad sound that rumbled in his belly.

“You’re doing a proper job at protecting him. Where’s your mum gone, hm?”

The Demiguise glanced away out over the dark canopy, crooning softly.

Newt fished in his pocket for the salve, luckily still safe from his tumble. He held the tin aloft, untwisting the lid and showing the creature the contents. “Its medicine. It can help his leg. Let’s see…”

He inched his way toward the nest, balancing carefully while the Demiguise swung himself to the other branch and up again, into the nest beside the brother. The nest swayed a bit, but the creature knew it well, perhaps had built it himself.

Newt settled at the edge, peering at the mangled part of the smaller creature’s leg. 

The wound was deep, untended, and a putrid yellow shade around the flesh. Newt clucked softly.

He scooped a portion of the healing salve onto his fingers, dabbing gently. After mere moments, the younger Demiguise was a little more lucid, blinking curiously up at their new acquaintance. Newt tied the bit of bandage around the ankle, and stroked tenderly at the fur at the creature’s foot.

“You’ll be right as rain soon,” he assured, and the elder Guise purred warmly. He reached one long arm to stroke at Newt’s shoulder, suddenly gripping and hauling his weight onto the man’s hip as if he were a trunk to be climbed. 

Newt chuckled, holding fast. “I suppose I’m your mum now, yes?”

-

Bits of charcoal scattered the ground when he blew over the paper, finally pleased at the shape of the creatures’ heads and noses.

 _Dougal_ and _Dandy_ , he’d written beneath each sketch.

He glanced up where they were plucking leaves high in the canopy, murmuring to each other now and then. Dandy seemed to have gained strength over the past twenty four hours, but still squealed painfully if he put weight on the bone in the wrong way.

So far, Newt had determined a diet of berries, sweet bark, and some leaves. Their abilities to predict the future had been demonstrated, but at this point he had no indications as to if they were random or triggered by threat of harm, as their invisibility seemed to be. It seemed to be a defense mechanism, but it needn’t always be.

He scribbled as they played, filling a page with short-handed notes before folding the journal closed. By now, he knew by his pocket watch, that it had been four days he’d spent on what was supposed to be a brief detour to China. It did not feel as long. The rainforest had an easy way of losing time, with everything so present and constantly serene. 

It was easy to take time for granted when he had no real deadlines. Of course, his travels were to be completed within the year. But with no one to answer to, he was relieved to be free to watch and observe for as long as he’d like. If he was honest, and he always was, it was not very lonely. Sometimes the thought would strike that he hadn’t heard a human’s voice besides his own in the span of a week, or perhaps two if he’d found something particularly interesting. But since the War, since Hogwarts, this had been the fullest he’d felt in his life. The most present. 

He was a romantic, Theseus had said once. But not the sort that easily wooed and won women. His palette was different. He cared for the things the world had forgotten. The things they considered lesser. He had little patience for people or relationship, and he found no fault there, really. 

He flipped to the stray page of his sketchbook where he’d penned her name by the stream just days ago.

_Dearest Leta…_

Of course he could imagine that she thought of him from time to time, as he thought of her when days grew particularly long. But it would be just that: imagination. He was never much for it. At least not the type that called for vanity. 

He set the book at his knees, tilting his face to the nest just a short distance away, where the tiny, forgotten family of two was settling for their naps.

His own eyelids drooped as the sun warmed along his cheek. Eventually, he found himself slumping there, notebook slipping from his knee, and a short promise of a nap not such a bad idea.

-

He stirred easily to the sound of tapping against the roof of the case. Only he wasn’t inside of it, he thought drowsily. He blinked in the slanting, golden sunlight, hazy through the trees and fronds. He drew a hand through his damp hair.

He must’ve fallen asleep against the roots of the tree, as evidence by his notes scattered about the vicinity, his pencil gnawed with familiar teeth marks, a stick of unseemly yellow in the green.

“Bugger.” He shifted to gather his things, perhaps blown about by the cool afternoon breeze. 

There was knocking again. The case.

He turned, to where it had been, tucked safely at his side. It was there, unopened. But being currently abused by the fists of a newly familiar friend. Dougal beat at it curiously, trying to figure at how it worked, what it was for. He spotted Newt, coal colored eyes wide and suddenly slanting in frustration.

“Hello,” he said. He waved a bit of his torn notebook at the creature. “It was you then?”

The Guise crooned, pleased.

“Yes. Very sneaky.” He sighed, shuffling the remains in some semblance of order. The creature beat his case again, gripping at the handle to strike it against a nearby tree.

“No, no,” Newt said, tenderly, reaching out a hand. In truth, he was panicked that the racket would upset the creatures within, but at the risk of ruining the gentle balance he’d seem to have struck with this one, he needn’t shout for fear of running him off.

“Its…I’ll show you. Look.” He inched forward, stance crouched. Gently, he managed to pry the case from the creature’s furry fists. He knelt, flicking the little knob beneath the latch that disguised it from Muggles or meddlers.

He lilted it open. “It carries things.,” he said, pointing at the odds and ends inside. He placed the tattered notebook in, and Dougal snatched at his binoculars.

Before he could protest, the creature had already figured what they were for, holding them to his eyes, wrong end first. Newt chuckled. “Very smart, aren’t you?”

He peered at the man from behind the goggles, then lowered them. Newt could’ve sworn that was a smile, there on the creature’s wizened face. Carefully, Dougal placed the binoculars back where he’d found them, gave them a friendly little pat, and reached for the shiny alarm clock.

He held it to his ear, listening to the monotonous tick.

“It tells time,” Newt informed, watching at the creature shook it and the bells rattled dully inside of it. He seemed to like the sound, so much so that he began bashing the thing against the ground.

“Don’t!” Newt said, forgetting himself, reaching to grab the item back but Dougal was quick. He held the clock to his chest, buried against his breast like it was a new babe, glaring on Newt defensively. He dashed away in a nearly undetectable streak as he vanished himself from human eyesight. Newt groaned, not at the loss of his timepiece, but the deftness and fleetness of this creature. 

He chased after it this time, listening for the scratch of claws on trees. A flare of light caught his eye. The alarm clock bobbed high in the branches, teasing.

“Alright. You’ve had your fun. Bring it back, please.” He set his hands to his hips, looking pointedly at the dancing clock.

There was a taunting little chant before the shrill of rattling bells stung through the forest, disturbing any creature in its wake. A chaos of birds wings and howls shredded the calm of the marsh, and Newt ducked just in time not to be nipped by angry claws of something-or-other streaking past overhead.

_“Immobulus!”_

He whipped his wand out just in time, catching both of the startled Demiguise in the spell’s reach just before they’d made it, tumbling and screeching, to the ground. They scrabbled in surprise, trying to find their feet, waddling dizzily.

He set his gaze to Dougal like a scolding mother, but couldn’t hide a least a little chuckle. “Didn’t forsee that, did you? Hm…”

He reached a hand, and the hunched little creature took it. His brother followed suit.

-

Their nest was set in a miniscule grove of trees, if it could be a called a grove. There were only about six in total, but they were of the right species, lush spring green with thick sturdy leaves. And the nest was made by their own paws, a wind of ivy and leaves, and Newt supposed they were happy enough. They played and slept and peeked wide eyed at their other case-mates, taking particular interest in their neighbors, the Occamies, which Newt considered strange, considering their snake-like appearance.

However, he had noticed Dandy growing irritable, sleeping for long hours. Longer than usual. He checked the wound on his leg when they reached China, and it had not seemed to grow any better despite the constant layering of salves and bandagings.

He stayed, slouching to sleep at the base of their little tree, several nights in a row, waking to check up on him periodically.

But things were looking no better after a few days of plenty of food and water and attention.

What he’d thought had been an easy fix was an infection too deep and too prolonged to remedy.

He watched the little creature’s brown eyes grow clouded on their fourteenth day in the case, and had hardly bit back a sob when Dougal started to coo desperately from the crook of his arm.

-

He found a nice, grassy plain to bury him. It was not as green as the jungle. Not home. Dougal poked into the little shed and onto his cot every night for the next three days, curled at the back of his knees. 

Newt did not sleep.

-

He busied himself with hollow work in his shed, organizing field notes already kept by species, giving a few pieces of crockery a dust, and only left the shed to sort out mealtimes, retreating again. He couldn’t stand to work in testing out potions or venoms. He couldn’t stand the thought of taking anything more from any one of these precious beings. He should’ve continued his journey without the extra day spent hoping for a chance at seeing the Demiguise again. He should’ve been satisfied with his notes and been done with it. The trouble with offering help was that the ego was only a hairsbreadth away.

It was all mourning was, anyways. A selfishness that wanted time turned back. Everything came back to it, he assumed. As much as he tried avoiding it.

He was polishing his already-glinting magnifying glasses late into the evening, a sulking ghost in the narrow shack, when Dougal peeked with blinking eyes through the doorway.

He shuffled in, grasping something in one first. 

Newt regarded him tenderly. “Is it that late already? I must’ve lost track of…”

The wise little beast held up his hand now, palm open.

A handful of berries from his own dinner.

Newt gave a watery grin, something in his heart swelling, painfully sweet.

-

“Here we are.” He tilted open the case, drawing Dougal by the hand up the narrow steps, back into the cool jade of the rainforest. “Not the exact spot, but quite close.”

Together, they stepped out of the case, and Dougal leapt immediately to roll into the soft, sweet green moss blanket of the forest floor.

He glanced back to Newt, tilting his head.

“Yes, go on then.”

But the creature peered around the jungle, crooning softly. If Newt hadn’t grown accustomed to the gentle language, he would’ve missed it.

Blinking at the sting in his eyes, Newt turned for the case. Best to leave now.

There was a low whine behind him, Dougal’s feet shuffling in the green.

Newt didn’t look. He knelt in the grass to latch the case shut.

Dougal squawked, hurrying back over to place his paws on the lid of the suitcase, trying at the latches.

“You belong here, not there,” Newt sighed. “I’m sorry that I took you. That all of this happened. You have to…”

Dougal was staring as if the man wasn’t nearly at the edge of tears, keenly seeing as always. He chirred and shoved at the case again.

Newt reached, patting a hand along the creature’s head. “You’ll be alone, though. Won’t you?”

Dougal purred, wide eyes unblinking. 

“I suppose we’ve both had enough of being alone.”

-

It was weeks later now. They were on a train bounding through the bleakness of Russia, but neither he nor the creatures were very put out by the rush and rumble of the engines, enclosed in the pleasant still of the case.

Newt was trying fruitlessly to detach a particularly indigent Bowtruckle from his fingers and into his tree. The others skittered excitedly and peeped beady eyes at the newest edition, a young little thing named Pickett. 

“Now, now. That’s enough. This is your new friend. Your new brother, that’s right. Pickett, do come on. They are your friends, just as I am.”

He glanced at a flash of white in his peripheral, and saw Dougal, proudly doling out a handful of dead crickets to the Occamies, who were all chirring expectantly at the promise of a treat.

He smiled. “Quite the helper, you are.”

Dougal seemed to smile before turning back to his task.

“Alright then,” Newt huffed, setting Pickett to his shoulder and letting him scurry under the line of his waistcoat. “But just this once.”

He turned from the wiggentree, stepping to crouch down to the low Occamy nest, leaning to nuzzle his cheek against the crown of Dougal’s head.

“I think they like it, ol’ boy.”

He reached to stroke at the sleek scales. One curled over his wrist, flexing tight at the warmth.

Newt smiled, just to himself. The serpent-like creatures plucked the rest of the bugs from Dougal’s hand and snapped their beaks at the air for more.

“We can’t be too greedy, now. That’s enough,” he said.

And for a moment, the thought of the train hurtling for its destination was far away. Here, it was just the creatures and himself. A strange, lost group of mismatched beings, all a bit misunderstood, and yet it brought the most clarity that Newt had ever known.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've wanted to write about New's travels for a long time, and I get that its a bit unconventional, because there aren't other character really, at least not human ones, and its really difficult to develop a story around just one person and no one else, especially since I think Newt would rather agree that most of his time spent researching and exploring would be quite dull to other people...Needless to say I struggled a lot with it. And it didn't really turn out as I'd hoped, but I do hope you enjoyed. And now I'm rambling, so bye!
> 
> ( tumblr: @allscissorsallpaper )


End file.
